Another Moment into Your Gravity
by untied
Summary: Quinn Fabray's recuperating. She's lost everything - her virginity, multiple boyfriends, her father and child. But this year, this year she's going to figure everything out. She might even learn to live along the way. M for sexual themes.
1. Chapter One: Do You Realize?

This story takes place the school year after Nationals, so hopefully I'll finish before the actual season starts. If I don't, this is AU. It's Faberry, which means two girls. If you don't like that, then I suggest you leave now. I don't own Glee or any of the characters, but I do own some of the storylines in this fic. Oh, and if you like it, please review. It inspires me to continue writing. Thank you, and enjoy!

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><p><em>Do you realize - you have the most beautiful face?<em>

Chapter One: Do You Realize?

_Crisp air slashed out at her as Quinn closed the apartment door, nipping at any and all visible flesh and causing her to pull her collar more securely up the nape of her neck. It was meticulously silent all across the streets, not at all how she would have ever imagined it to be in such a city as New York._

"_Burrr." she hummed to herself, wrapping her arms around her own torso and descending the cracked, stone stairs that lead to the sidewalk in front of the familiar building. She almost didn't notice the little girl sitting idly on the first step, a pure white bow tied into her golden curls behind her bangs. _

_When she did she was halfway down, and Quinn hesitated. Pastel lights had already begun to paint the visible bit of sky overhead, just between the jutting buildings and the overcast clouds. This meant that the sun was beginning to set, and it was much too late for children such as this girl to be out. Especially on their own. _

_Quinn let her hand stray from its grip on her side to ghost over the cold, brass banister, steadying herself before taking the last few steps to the sidewalk and glancing down at the girl. "Hello, can I help you?" she asked, not particularly sure how to go about this. All she knew was that the situation couldn't simply be left alone._

_The girl glanced up at her, and Quinn thought for a moment that she had the darkest pair of chocolate eyes for her complexion. She sported a serious expression that might have been amusing on any other child, but this one seemed to pull it off without a hitch. "I'm looking for my mother." she informed Quinn, her words spilling out like liquid and her eyes slipping off the older woman and back into the street where she'd first been staring._

_Quinn blinked at her solemn persona, and her legs moved of their own accord, landing her down beside the tiny child. She couldn't have been older than six or seven, she thought, her eyes roaming over the girl. "Your mother? Does she live here?"_

"_I believe so." was all she said in response, glancing at Quinn boredly before steadying her gaze on her shoe. "I wanted to meet her, but I can't."_

_The blond peered down the street and then back at the girl, wondering where her mother was and why she would let such a tiny child sit outside on her own. This was New York after all. "Why can't you?" she found herself asking before she could help herself._

_Although her expression had remained utterly grave throughout the entire encounter, the girl actually faltered, her cheeks turning a rosy shade. She muttered something unintelligible._

"_Excuse me?"_

"_I can't tie my shoes. My shoe came untied, and I don't know how to tie it. I'm afraid she'll think I'm a _moron_." answered the girl slightly louder, glancing down at her right sneaker somberly. _

_Quinn didn't know what propelled her to do so, but before she could think, she was leaning over the child and looping her shoe strings together._

"_What on earth are you doing?" she demanded, watching Quinn with widened eyes._

"_Tying your shoe. Now pay attention." Quinn instructed, not exactly sure why she was doing this. Some part of her was telling her that she had somewhere to be, but she just wasn't sure where that was suddenly. "Criss-cross, and then loop the tie underneath. Now make a bunny ear here and wrap the string around it. There, it's just like your bow."_

_The girl watched her intently, fascination scrawled across her tiny face until Quinn had finished the task. "That was amazing." She breathed, poking the tie as the woman leaned away from her and threw her gaze back into the street._

_She smiled despite herself. "Why don't you show your mother? I'm sure she'll think it is, too."_

_The words were immediately regretted when Quinn turned in time to see the girl's face fall, a tiny overbite gnawing at her bottom lip. "I still can't meet her." she mumbled, expelling a sigh and tugging at the laces thoughtfully. "I don't know where she is."_

_Quinn cocked her head to the side and studied the child, wondering how she couldn't know where her own mother was. "I thought you said she lived here." _

"_She does. I think. But, I don't…" the girl frowned and shook her head, not meeting Quinn's gaze. Really, why was the woman still here? If she didn't hurry, she'd miss wherever she needed to be. But then… she couldn't leave this little girl all by herself – what kind of person would that make her?_

"_Maybe I know her." she murmured, wanting so desperately to comfort the obviously troubled kid. "I live here, too, I think..." she said, suddenly unsure. She never got to see what the inside of the building was… Maybe she didn't live there. "What's your name?"_

_The girl smiled at her generosity and perked up a bit, sitting straight and heaving her gaze to stare full force at Quinn. "I'm Beth."_

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><p>Her eyes fluttered open, lashes revealing a pair of misty hazel orbs as she fought to get her bearings, her heart clenching with reminiscence of the dream. Something was tickling her nose, she realized, and when her vision cleared, Quinn roared with indignation.<p>

"Jake Evans, get your butt out of my face!" she cried, shoving the Border Collie from his perch over her pillow with his tail slumped across her nose. Waking with the sudden movement, the dog barked in protest and almost seemed to scowl at her.

Jake was a stray. One that Sam and his siblings had found scavenging around the garbage bags in front of their motel. The Evans had attempted housing the dog since Stacey and Stevie couldn't bear to let him go. That is, they attempted it until their father returned from work and demanded the filthy beast be gone since they could "hardly feed themselves, let alone _that _monstrosity," and things fell along after that.

Quinn wasn't exactly sure what had prompted her into volunteering to care for Jake until the Evans got back on their feet – probably the somber looks on Sam's brother and sister's face one day at church when they had spilled the story to her or a spawning ulterior motive to befriend Sam again – but she had, and it had been three full weeks since then. So far, she and the dog were mortal enemies.

A sigh escaped her lips as the girl leaned upward out of bed and rubbed her eyes, not sparing a dejected looking Jake, who had busied himself with sulking in the corner of her mattress, one glance. It was then that she began recounting her dream, eyes glazing over as she did so. Strange – it had been almost a year exactly since that particular nighttime interlude had graced her subconscious, and the thought that it was returning made her feel somewhat ill. So she did what Fabrays did best and shoved it down, casting a forlorn glance at her alarm clock.

It read two in the morning, she saw, which made absolutely no sense. Quinn narrowed her eyes in confusion and looked over at the lengthy window that took up half of the wall beside her bed. Sunlight was already snaking through the blinds, causing a myriad of golden bars to wash over her. She stared; sleep lingering on her features until everything clicked.

"Crap!" she cried suddenly, thrusting the covers off of her and knocking an indignant Jake off the bed with a yelp. It was Monday, and that might not have meant anything in the past few weeks preceding today, but this particular Monday was the first of the semester. Otherwise known as the first day of school.

_My alarm, what happened to my alarm?_ She thought frantically as she leaped out of bed and ran for the bathroom connected to her room. On the way over, however, her legs met with something large, and she abruptly faceplanted. On the verge of screaming her frustration, Quinn rubbed her jaw where it had hit with the floor and looked down. Apparently, she'd tripped over Jake who had somehow thought it wise to veer into her path and was now moaning from being smothered.

"Jake! I swear to _God_." Quinn shouted, not bothering to make sure he was all right before scrambling to her feet and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. _I could kill that dog._

When she was done primping herself for school – which consisted of brushing her teeth, clumsily changing clothes, applying deodorant and body spray, and running a brush through her hair for lack of time – Quinn found herself stampeding down the stairs, about to rush right out the door until she realized her mother was sitting in the kitchen, reading a newspaper. She couldn't help herself.

"What happened to my alarm?" Quinn demanded the woman, darting into the room to grab a banana for breakfast and fixing her mother with a cold glare.

Judy Fabray let her newspaper descend slowly to reveal her eyes peering at the girl over the top of it, and she winced. "Stop screaming." she whispered in a croaky voice, the top of her disheveled blond curls now visible from over the paper. "The power went out last night… Storm…"

Quinn stared at her mother as she hastened to toss the banana in her messenger bag and snatch her keys off the counter. Unbelievable. Who drinks on a Sunday? Jesus. Well, if she was hungover, the girl certainly wasn't going to make it easy for her.

"Yeah?" she asked unnecessarily loudly, eyes blazing with her fury. "Are you sure a storm was the only thing that went down last night?" The growl was delivered icily as Quinn moved to race out of the kitchen and toward the front door, not looking back at her mother.

Judy rubbed her temples at her daughter's volume and muttered something intelligible before, "Quinnie… It's not like that. Honey, stop. Your shirt—" Unfortunately for her, the rest of the sentence was cut short as Quinn slammed the door behind her and headed out to her car, mumbling all sorts of expletives.

It was humid, the scent of rain smacking her in the face as soon as she was outside. Despite herself, Quinn couldn't help but remember a past conversation about this type of weather.

"_Yeah, yeah, 'cause you know how awesome it is when it's just drizzling outside, but it's not really rain, so it smells like rain but you don't need an umbrella to go outside…"_

"_Are you a moron?"_

Quinn set her jaw and attempted to pull the hood of her sweatshirt up her neck as she clicked the button to unlock her car. It was then that she realized she couldn't find her hood and blinked before casting a look down at her appearance. Her shirt was on backwards, the hood in the front.

"For Pete's sake!" she shouted loud enough for the neighbors to hear and stormed back inside the house.

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><p>The first couple periods of her first day as a senior were a nondescript blur, all of the teachers preaching various interpretations of the exact same guidelines in every class. Honestly, Quinn felt as if she was in a daze, simply going through the motions while her mind was somewhere else entirely.<p>

Fourth period she found herself in Calculus, draped across her desk and snoozing. She wasn't certain why she was suddenly struck with such exhaustion – probably had something to do with the fact that Jake snored, _loudly_, and he howled if he was put to bed anywhere but her room – but she had slipped into a heavy, dreamless unconsciousness as soon as Miss Harding had begun her lecture.

In fact, she was so far gone that it took the teacher three nudges to her shoulder with a ruler before smacking it down on the desk in front of her for her to jerk upright, eyes widened.

"Miss Fabray, if you'll stay roused, perhaps I can conclude my dissertation and cease wasting valuable class time tending to your undisciplined antics." the old lady told her, evoking a round of giggles from the spectating students as Quinn embarrassedly wiped the drool off her chin.

The slightly more Fabray-ic part of the girl willed her to inquire whether the teacher had swallowed a Thesaurus, but knowing that would get her nowhere except a feasible trip to Figgins' office, she bit her tongue and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Once the hag was out of earshot, she turned to cast a glance around the room but stopped short when she realized Santana was sitting beside her and practically jumped out of her seat. When had she gotten there?

The Latina met her gaze full on with an amused smirk and read her mind, answering in a whisper, "I was late to class. You were already out by the time I came in, Sleeping Beauty."

Quinn nodded because that made sense, and she rested her chin on the flat of her desk drowsily, arms splayed over the side in a somewhat comical form. "Why were you late?" It was small talk, one of those up in the air questions, but when she noticed her companion remained silent, she shot a weary look her way.

Santana was visibly agitated and appeared for the entire world as if she was attempting to think up a lie to her question right on the spot. That was _so _not her – the Latina was much more subtle. Which was definitely cause for worry if whatever had happened was severe enough for her to not tell the truth. Quinn sat straight.

"You look upset." she commented quietly, not sure if that was completely accurate. If anything, she would have described it as "a tad troubled", but shooting in the dark worked to her advantage.

Her friend stiffened, telling her all she needed to know, and her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, well, you look like a fucking zombie." she muttered, quick to change the topic. "What happened? I thought you were supposed to dress to impress on the first day of school."

Because they had been friends for such a substantial amount of time, Quinn had long since learned to preemptively forgive Santana her bluntness. Sometimes it was an asset when she actually _did _want somebody to tell her the truth. Not that she did now, emphasizing this with a tiny huff. "I woke up late because the storm cut our power, but I didn't get any sleep because of this _dog_—" she began when a wadded paper ball sailed through the air and smacked her in the back of the head, ricocheting off her hair and into her hood. You know, since she'd taken the initiative to put it back on the right way.

"What the…?" Quinn began before suddenly being shushed by Miss Harding, the teacher pausing to glare at her in the middle of one of her wordy sentences. This caused another round of snickers as Quinn nodded her head obediently. She waited for her to start speaking again before plunging her hand into her hood to retrieve the bit of paper. As she did so, she managed to glance around her shoulder and found herself staring into a pair of the exact same chocolate eyes as her dream.

Noah Puckerman smirked before motioning for her to proceed examining the projectile he had slung at her. With a roll of her hazel eyes, Quinn unfolded the wad, not bothering to move it away when Santana leaned over her shoulder to read as well.

Once it was thoroughly unwrinkled, she attempted to read Puck's near illegible handwriting. It said:

_You snore. I thought you should know since that's why Hardass figured you were catching some z's. Oh, and party. Saturday. Seven. My place. Mom and sister are going to be out camping and, like… hunting for cookies or something for her Girl Scouts. You and Lopez. Be there._

_P.S. By the way, I'm really digging the sweatshirt look on you. Mrow._

_Puckasaurus_

Santana smirked as Quinn shot a cold glare in Puck's direction. "I _do not _snore!"

The cry of outrage was met with the ruler smacking the flat of Quinn's desk yet again by Miss Harding. "Miss Fabray, be _quiet_!"


	2. Chapter Two: Let Me Be Myself

So this, in my opinion, came out really badly. I'm not sure what's up with my head, but I just can't… word… Blah. Expect the worst because this chapter definitely was not my finest. Oh, and there's a bit of song in here. I mean, if you wanted to, you could skip it since lots of people don't like song fics, but honestly, I think you'll be missing out on character development. The song is The Lonely by Christina Perri (I cut out some of the lyrics, though), and I just think it fits.

Still… Enjoy!

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><p><em>I guess I just got lost being someone else<em>

Chapter Two: Let Me Be Myself

Thankfully, Quinn made it through the rest of Calculus without Miss Harding shushing her again… Although she did receive several frosty glances whenever she attempted to whisper something to Santana or Puck. Suffice it to say, she'd hesitantly agreed to the party.

After the bell rang, she found herself purposely walking shoulder to shoulder with Santana and Puck as they launched their journey to Glee Club. It was a journey because it was always burdened with the daunting possibility of a slushy facial or some other type of abuse. And though Quinn had only been on the receiving line once, she wasn't particularly keen on the prospect of a second time.

Despite the fact that she was no longer a Cheerio – in fact, the only extracurricular she partook in now was Glee – she still managed to retain some buzz at this school. If only in the way no one dared to mess with her – once the HBIC, always the HBIC. Because, eventually, the parting crowds for her like Moses had ceased since people began to realize she was just another student like them now. However, if she were to be publically humiliated again, all of that could come crashing over her head. So whenever put in a vulnerable position (like walking to the much loathed Glee Club), she always had her guard up. _I pretty much lost every ounce of power I had over this school, but I am _not _going to lose my ability to intimidate._

God seemed to have laid a hand by the time the three friends finished their trek to the choir room. Or, at least, they had thought so until a familiar splashing sound filled their ears, accompanied by a shriek that could only be produced by getting slapped unexpectedly in the face with an icy drink.

Quinn turned on her heel and threw her gaze down the hall to where Karofsky and his gang were chuckling; the boy's beefy hand ridding the last of his slushy's contents atop the head of a freshman girl.

"Sorry about that." he snickered, dropping the cup to the ground where it clattered almost ominously. "We had to make an example of some freshman, and you were just… there."

Laughter erupted throughout the hallway as the girl burst into tears before sprinting to the closest bathroom, her slicked feet tripping over one another. Part of Quinn's heart went out to her – she'd probably locked herself in a stall and was crying her eyes out. Another part remained indifferent as her glare leveled with Karofsky, his teammates clapping him on the back in approval. There was nothing she, nor anyone else, could do. They simply weren't that far up the pecking order to hold any sort of influential grasp on what was socially acceptable.

"What a dick," murmured Puck with something close to regret in his tone. Quinn eyed him. The football player had slung many a slushy in his time, and even though she pitied him for feeling disgusted of himself for it, she couldn't deny it was justifiable. Exactly the way she sometimes felt about herself… Thinking on that, Quinn couldn't stop herself from remembering the first time she had truly experienced remorse.

"_I have hurt so many people."_

Closing her eyes for a few seconds longer than necessary, she and Santana bobbed their heads up and down in agreement before the Latina sighed. "Nothing we can do. This stuff always happens. Let's just be happy it's not us." she told them before pivoting around and entering the choir room with Puck in tow.

Quinn knew she was right and exhaled slowly to calm her taut nerves before casting a final look down the hallway, kids finally getting over the scene and returning to class. What she glimpsed made her wrinkle her nose.

Finn – her heart gave a tug that she hated herself for – was grinning goofily, still chuckling a bit at Karofsky's display, with Rachel on his arm. The girl was glaring at him with all of the brute force she could muster – which generally gave her the appearance of an institutionalized toddler – and Quinn realized that what just happened must have struck uneasily close to home for her. It'd be a lie to say it had been a long time since Rachel herself had been bullied… Well, it hadn't really happened since the football team won the conference championship last year. But, it still must have been an unnerving sight for her. Which she emphasized by punching Finn in the shoulder and unlinking arms with him before she promptly disappeared down the hall.

Curiosity piqued, Quinn couldn't help but wonder where the diva had run off to… But soon she noticed Finn, blinking stupidly at the sudden lack of girlfriend at his side, making his way to Glee. Chest swelling terribly, she forced herself to turn around and enter the room. _Get it together, Fabray._

Trotting after Santana, Quinn paused at the same time as the Latina to survey their surroundings. The Glee classroom looked the same as ever, the built-in bleachers in the back hosting the same fourteen chairs and their tiny twelfth place trophy from Nationals displayed atop the piano. Nothing much had really changed at all, Quinn noticed with the faintest twinge of pleasant nostalgia. Save for the fact that everything had been coated with a tiny layer of dust over the summer.

People were steadily beginning to enter the room, exchanging pleasantries and asking about one another's summer before taking their usual seats. Before Quinn could comment on how they ought to secure their own chairs for the semester, she glimpsed Brittany in the corner of her eye.

"Guys!" the girl exclaimed, bounding over in a sort of graceful clumsiness.

Quinn couldn't help the fleeting smile that crossed her face at the sight of her friend. The blond was wearing a thin, black tank top and a red plaid skirt to match it, showing off her long legs. Compared to Quinn's light blue sweatshirt with bright white drawstrings and black skinny jeans, the girl suddenly felt considerably underdressed and mentally cursed Jake for it… Because if she was being completely honest with herself, it was entirely too easy to blame everything on that dog.

"Hey, Brittany." she answered, grinning at the other girl's bright and happy presence. Though the three friends had hung out some during the summer, Quinn had to admit that she had been somewhat of a hermit. And she actually regretted it, not realizing until now how much she had sincerely missed her friends.

"Hi." The girl let slip a thousand watt smile before promptly leaning forward to chastely peck Santana on the lips, a move that made the whole Glee Club freeze. As for Quinn, she was now certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that _this _was what had made Santana late for fourth period.

A silence hung in the air as the residents of the club stared at the two girls. Brittany seemed unconcerned for the most part until she glimpsed Santana's horrified face and actually realized what she'd done. A brief blip of panic crossed her features before she leaned forward yet again to peck Quinn as well (evoking a "What are you – mmmmmph."). Or, at least, she _thought _it was a peck since she could have sworn she felt some tongue dance across her bottom lip.

_What the actual fuck? _Quinn thought, her eyes widening to the size of metaphorical dinner plates. In her peripheral vision, she could see that Santana was staring at her in shock, barely concealed rage brimming in the other girl's eyes.

Whispers erupted around them, and Quinn saw Kurt flip out his phone and send a text.

However, Brittany, calm as ever, looked at the other members of Glee and gave a grin. "_Friends_ can kiss each other." she declared as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Quinn realized she did so in both the efforts of explaining to her and Santana why she'd kissed the blond as well as alleviating everybody else's growing suspicions.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, Mister Schue chose that moment to arrive before they got the chance to see whether the plan had worked.

"Hey, guys!" he greeted the class, seemingly oblivious to the shock that was still coursing through the room. He proceeded to launch into another "welcome back" speech which no one really appeared to be listening to. They were all still casting appalled glances at the three girls.

Brittany, still crazily calm, linked her arms with Quinn and Santana and promptly dragged them over to three open seats in the corner. As they passed by other clubbers, Quinn was almost certain she heard Puck say to Mike, "It would be like a clusterfuck of hot if they all just dated each other." Needless to say, she didn't share his enthusiasm about that idea at all.

Once they arrived at their destination, the ex-cheerleader had the supreme pleasure of being seated directly between the two girls. At first, she didn't mind the heated looks they gave one another, but when the whispers initiated and they began talking around her, she wanted to smash her head into the wall. Part of her zoned in on Mister Schuester's mouth as he spoke, but she didn't register any of the words since her ears were filled with Brittany and Santana's hushed murmurs.

"I'm sorry, Santana. I forgot!"

"You forgot? How could you_ forget_, Britt?"

"We were just so open about it this summer. But, I fixed it."

"At home, we were. And fixed it? You _kissed Quinn_."

"Yeah, but not because I wanted to." The girl threw an apologetic look Quinn's way when she saw her affronted expression. "She's hot, and her lips taste like strawberries, but it didn't mean what our kisses mean. It was to show everyone that it wasn't just you. So, they wouldn't think you were the only one… Or that we're… I mean, I'm sorry, Quinn. I know you're not lady loving—"

"So, are you guys dating?" Quinn interrupted, her hazel eyes full of puzzlement. She wasn't an idiot. It was entirely impossible to be friends with Brittany and Santana for such a long time and _not _notice their attraction to each other. And so, she'd accepted it a long time ago, waiting like everybody else for this particular moment.

Honestly, she didn't really care. Maybe before… When she was on top of the school and her father still lived with her, Russell would rant incessantly about how horrendous gays were. Then, Quinn sort of ignored the tension between her best friends, assuring herself that he had to be wrong because Santana and Brittany were wonderful people. Now, though? It was blatantly obvious that her father was a hypocrite – therefore nothing he said or had said was credible anymore. So, she kind of just didn't give a shit as long as they were happy.

"Sort of." answered the Latina just as Brittany nodded full-heartedly. Quinn noted with faint distress that when their eyes met, Brittany's expression turned slightly haughty and she averted her gaze pointedly. An awkward quiet settled over the three friends in which Quinn bit her lip. Really, that hadn't been her intention at all.

With a sigh, she focused on Mister Schuester – still gushing inspirational words that sounded suspiciously like Journey lyrics – to assuage some of the discomfort that came with sitting between the two girls.

"So, once again, I'm glad you guys haven't stopped believing all these years."

The man appeared almost close to tears, and Quinn heard Artie whisper, "It's gonna be like Noah's Arc up in here, y'all. I can tell."

Seemingly oblivious to the giggles the comment evoked, Mister Schue pressed on, rubbing his eyes a little in the effort to stop any more wetness from forming. "Now in our final year together, I've decided that we're going to be… _ruthless_. Saints or sinners, we're going to take no prisoners. Any way the judges want it, that's the way we need to perform. So, anyways, I thought it would be helpful to our success for us to start off the year with a basic assignment." He promptly turned on his heel and waltzed to his much beloved white board.

Quinn let her gaze sway away from the teacher when he began writing and looked across the room speculatively. She hadn't really gotten the chance to take in the other Glee clubbers since the day had started, and she was definitely curious to see who had gotten the bad haircut, who had shot up forty inches overnight, who had grown terrible facial hair, and all of the other things that seemed to happen over a summer.

Eying the class, however, she soon realized with a bit of disappointment that nothing or anyone (at least not in an amusing way) had changed much. Mike and Tina sat in a far corner with their hands clasped just the same as they had last year. Puck and Lauren sat beside them, chattering boredly about something discernable for the distance. A row down Sam was sitting complacently next to Artie, showing the wheelchair bound boy something on his phone. Something funny apparently since both of them burst into a quiet bout of laughter… Despite herself, Quinn let her eyes linger a little longer than she would have liked on the back of his blond head.

Quinn and Sam were friends. Sam and Quinn were friends. They _were _friends. Or, at least, they were trying to be. Singling out the advantage of attending the same church as the boy had made it fairly easy to engage him in small talk every now and then, and she sometimes even visited to help him babysit his brother and sister... While that wasn't necessarily part of the plan to befriend him again – she simply couldn't help herself when it came to adoring those kids – it was working fairly well. And then there was the fact that she had took his wretched _dog _in, which in Quinn's opinion, earned her hundreds of friends points. Still, though, the initial awkwardness of this post breakup mess had remained _very _prominent.

The muscles in her jaw working, Quinn pointedly flicked her eyes away from Sam and let them roam the rest of the bleachers. Next, they landed on Kurt and Mercedes, and she blinked when the girl caught her staring. The self-proclaimed closeted diva gave her a smile, which Quinn returned awkwardly before averting her gaze… Lastly, her eyes caught sight of Finn.

Hating herself for even breathing in his direction, Quinn still found she was unable to look away. He hadn't changed at all… Well, if anything, he'd let his hair grow into even more of a wily mess, she thought with faint passive aggressiveness.

Heaving a sigh that Brittany noticed (and gave her a playful nudge with a tight smile); she nodded meekly, finishing her assessment of the class. Well, so far no one had changed—Wait a minute. Blinking, Quinn leveled her line of sight with Finn again and promptly noticed a very, _very _empty seat next to him. Where was Rachel?

Momentarily confused, the blond blinked several times to find that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. The diva just wasn't there. And that would explain why Finn was looking around and fiddling with his thumbs like a lost puppy…

Redirecting her focus on Mister Schuester yet again, Quinn pondered this while attempting to make the bafflement on her face less noticeable. _I saw her in the hallway – she must not have come back… _Despite the fact that she most certainly did not care about Rachel's whereabouts, the girl suddenly found herself craning her neck toward the door in the effort to watch for her.

As it happened, she didn't have to wait very long, since as soon as Mister Schue was finished with the words on the board – in order, they read "emotion", "passion", "anger", "love", "heartache" – the door burst open.

"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed the overtly loud voice, which let Quinn know there was no cause for worry... For the people that actually _cared_.

As the door swung on its hinges, it revealed a very flustered Rachel Berry. Now that Quinn could look at her without suspicion – everybody's eyes were on the girl – she noted with faint distaste that absolutely _nothing _about Rachel had changed. The same argyle socks leading up into the same granny's brown skirt with an owl sweater. Regretfully, however, Quinn had to admit the girl must have put more effort into her outfit that morning than she.

Mister Schuester glanced up, briefly surprised before collecting himself. _He didn't even notice she wasn't here_, Quinn thought with faint amusement.

"Oh, yeah. Rachel. Welcome back. Do you have a note?"

In answer, the diva threw her hands up in the air, and Quinn glimpsed someone walk by the open door behind her. She blinked when she recognized the girl that had gotten slushied earlier trotting quickly by, looking for the entire world as if the Karofsky incident had never happened.

"Yes, well, no…" Rachel sighed, closing the door behind her.

Raising a brow in response, Mister Schue shrugged because it just wasn't like her to show up late without some sort of credible excuse. "Right. Well, just go take your seat. We'll let this one slide."

By this time, the Glee Club had gotten over the initial surprise and were reverting their attention back to the white board as Rachel, with a grateful nod, took an obvious seat by Finn. Quinn let her eyes linger long enough to see the boy smile and begin to lean in to give her a peck on the lips before she hastily turned to face their teacher – what she didn't see was that Rachel hurriedly twisted her neck away so that the kiss landed on her cheek.

If anyone had looked at her now, they probably wouldn't have guessed anything was wrong – something she valued about her steely Fabray resolve. That is, they wouldn't unless they looked at her hands, because Quinn was now gripping the sides of her chair with white knuckles.

_You don't care. You don't care. You knew this was going to happen, and you don't care._

"Emotion." declared Mister Schue then, and Quinn quickly discovered that keeping her eyes glued to his face easily kept her from leering at or thinking about Finn and Rachel. So she did. "It's a very broad topic as we all know, but I think everyone can agree that passion is the most general form of it." At this, he circled the word. "Passion can exist in many things, but in my opinion, it's most prominent in these three groups. Anger – rage and resentment and mostly just feeling a sort of _hate _for something or someone."

_Boy,_ Quinn thought. _I can attest to that._

"Love – but not necessarily the love for a person. Love can mean just about anything. For example, something that Santana usually feels inclined to comment on is the fact that I like vests."

"Twelve step program." answered the Latina beside Quinn, and it was just impossible to not smile.

"Exactly." said Mister Schue in his enthusiastic way, full-heartedly ignoring the giggles that rapidly surrounded them. "You could easily say that I _love _vests." He promptly peered down at himself and wiped some invisible lint off of it. "They make me happy. And love is basically feeling an affection toward something that usually makes you happy. So, love could mean expressing that which makes you feel good."

At this, Quinn couldn't help but notice Brittany glance over at an oblivious Santana.

"And lastly, heartache. While it would be pretty easy to say that heartache could be the same thing as anger, because there's lots of songs about vengeance after something hurts you – we've done a lot of them," continued Mister Schuester, pointedly avoiding glancing at Finn, Rachel, or Quinn and gluing his gaze to the far wall. "That's not what I mean. For this lesson, I think heartache should belong to the sadness genre. When you lose something or someone, you sort of feel like it was completely out of your hands. You had no control over the situation, and that's what stings the most. I want you guys to reach down and truly express that feeling of heartache – if you choose that group – for this week's assignment."

Although she had previously resigned to staring at her teacher, at his words, Quinn looked across the room, immediately catching Puck's gaze. In that moment, she was sure there was only one girl on both of their minds.

"Mister Schue," said Kurt then, immediately jarring her back into reality. "Excuse my bluntness, but is there a point to all this? What _is _our assignment?"

There were faint mutters of agreement toward the question.

"I'm glad you asked, Kurt." the teacher responded, nodding eagerly. "Our assignment for this week is to pair up. Yes, we're going to all be performing duets again – everybody will have a chance to have the floor at some point during the course of the week. What I want you guys to do is pick one of the three groups I have on the board, and it'll probably help that you have to have it in common with your partner to narrow it down. And then, you're going to go as _deep _as you can to try and express that level of passion with your performance and song choice – hold on to that feeling and genuinely let it out. With luck, we'll all learn to sing with our emotions as well as learn a little something about ourselves this week."

A quiet hum seemed to encompass the classroom as everyone glanced around for their potential partner. They all seemed thoroughly excited, but Quinn swallowed. Throwing a glance at Brittany and Santana – who were now looking lovingly at one another despite their differences only minutes beforehand – her heart sank even though she knew she should be happy for them. _Who am I going to duet with?_

Witnessing the class's enthusiasm, Mister Schue let loose a crooked smile. "And I want you guys to know that whatever happens this semester," His voice cracked. "We'll forever be the New Directions. Faithfully."

"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Santana then, only loud enough for the trio to hear. "He completely stole that from a song!"

Quinn and Brittany nodded furiously in agreement.

* * *

><p>The auditorium was silent, lingering shadows dancing across the walls as they jumped in and out of the overhead light. Quinn sat on the very edge of the stage, her legs dangling over it and earbuds hanging loosely from the hood of her sweatshirt as she listened.<p>

She wasn't sure why she had decided to venture into the barely lit, obscure depths of the auditorium after school let out. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that none of the other Glee members had claimed it for practice today, and she knew no one else was going to be there. Sometimes she just liked to be alone. And even if she had the opportunity to do so in her own home – her mother surely wouldn't bother her unless necessary – it was still the Fabray house. Where she'd been shoving everything down for the majority of her life. This stage, the New Directions – that was her outlet.

With a thoughtful expression, Quinn looked over at the piano sitting idly in the corner of the stage, almost veiled completely by a visible strip of curtain. This gave it the appearance of being both bathed in shadow and light at the same time, the keys sparkling at her like a question.

Quinn decided to answer, heaving herself from her sitting position and making her way over. Once there, she slipped behind the piano and laid her hands across the keys. She wasn't an expert when it came to playing – she'd only ever taken several lessons for her father's benefit – but she _did _know the notes and scales for Glee purposes. Even a few songs that she'd taken the initiative to learn.

Delicately, Quinn let her fingers dip into a few notes, producing sounds that echoed throughout the entire chamber. Somehow, it felt oddly similar to shouting – being that loud. And that was a luxury for her.

The blond had always felt confident about her ability to be quiet. If she was perfectly honest with herself, it was the _only _thing she owned that her self-assurance had never wavered in. To elaborate, it was like… There was always this bottle of rage within her, but it was a secret. She kept it quiet, kept everything in there, and never let it out. Sometimes the need to just _scream _was almost unbearable, but she was so strong. And so _quiet_.

So, when a familiar song began to play into her ears, Quinn tugged the earbuds from her head and slipped off her hood, letting her hands touch the right notes. She faltered slightly – it had been a long time since she'd played anything from memory – but her timing was correct… And for the first time in two years, she didn't _have _to be quiet.

Her eyes fell closed as her fingers almost ghosted over the keys. When her voice seemed to slip out of its own accord, it was rough. She hadn't warmed up, nor had she been practicing much over the summer. But somehow, that gave it even more impact.

_Two a.m.; where do I begin?  
><em>_Crying off my face again,  
><em>_The silent sound of loneliness,  
><em>_Wants to follow me to bed._

Behind her closed lids, Quinn could almost see a steady stream of video, as if through an old movie. A girl in a cheerleading uniform strutting the halls as if she owned them. Slushy after slushy, insult after insult, humiliation after humiliation. She was beautiful and perfect. Some might say she was great, though terrible. Always surrounded by people, but one of the loneliest you would ever meet. After a couple wine coolers and being taken advantage of (not that she blames Puck since he was drunk off his ass too), she was pregnant, too… And now she wasn't perfect. The veil had been lifted and a normal, insecure person was sitting behind the curtain. Like anyone else. How far had she fallen?

_I'm a ghost of a girl that I want to be most,  
><em>_I'm a shell of a girl that I used to know well._

Words fueled her voice and her fingers as she continued, her entire body almost shaking. _Whore, pregnant, sinner, unwanted, disowned, hypocrite, slut. _The familiar pressure began to well up behind her eyes, but she fought it off by instinct. Crying was a selfish act. It was a relief that made others uncomfortable and made you appear weak.

_Too afraid to go inside,  
><em>_For the pain of one more loveless night,  
><em>_But the loneliness will stay with me,  
><em>_And hold me til I fall asleep._

Her voice was delicate. Everyone told her that. It was pretty, but it was fragile and _delicate. _It wasn't meant to be projected as loudly as it had for that last line, and the rawness of it wasn't as 'pretty' as it was dangerous and risky. And that was oddly comforting.

_Broken pieces of,  
><em>_A barely breathing story,  
><em>_Where there once was love,  
><em>_Now there's only me and the lonely._

Gripping the bit of resolve she still possessed, Quinn attempted to shut down her thoughts. Maybe she should stop playing… But, she just couldn't. A tear slipped down her cheek.

_Dancing slowly in an empty room,  
><em>_Can the lonely take the place of you?  
><em>_I sing myself a quiet lullaby,  
><em>_Let you go and let the lonely in,  
><em>_To take my heart again._

When it was over, her hands stilled at their spots across the keys. A look of defeat was scrawled across her face.

And then someone clapped.

_No_. She jumped out from behind the piano, something as cold as ice filling her veins – panic. Through the glare of the overhead lights, Quinn could make out someone standing just in front of the stage. And her heart dropped.

Rachel Berry hesitantly ceased her applause as she laid witness to the girl's transformation. It happened in seconds. Any vulnerability Quinn might have opened herself up to disappeared instantly, replaced by a frosty persona that tainted her entire body. Her torso went stiff, her eyes flicked off like a light, and her fingers curled into fists. Rachel flinched.

"I-I… forgot my bag earlier during today's rehearsal, and I, er, meant to get it back." The girl lifted the bag a little as if to comfort Quinn with the fact that she wasn't lying.

It didn't work – on an almost molecular level, the blond's nerves were tensed. Some part of her wanted to silence the rambling girl with an insult or a demeaning look. Another part was just weary.

"Then I heard you." continued Rachel, appearing slightly frightened. She let her weight fall from foot to foot. "I must say you really have taken Mister Schue's assignment to heart. That performance was _very _emotional. And while you were sharp in some places – a usual I suggest you work on – and that belt in the middle was an odd choice for your voice, it still was—"

"I didn't ask for a critique, Rachel." Quinn stated calmly, finally collecting herself and slipping away from the piano. She headed toward the diva, and Rachel shrank back as she neared, but it didn't give Quinn the satisfaction it might have a few minutes prior. Not meeting the brunette's eyes, she leaned forward to grab her messenger bag where she had left it, heaving it up her shoulder.

Because the stage rose a few feet higher than the ground, Quinn had to peer down at Rachel. It was awkward – granted, the entire situation was.

"Oh…" murmured the girl, frowning because she obviously hadn't expected that reaction. Which was strange. Quinn was Quinn, and Rachel was Rachel. How could she not have expected it? "Uh, why not? Aren't you performing it this week?" She cast a glance at the piano.

"No." answered Quinn (not bothering to elaborate on how she obviously didn't have a partner), suddenly extremely tired. She fixed Rachel with a cool gaze, not aware that the stain of her tear still glistened on her face. "You… weren't… supposed to hear that." she finally added after an awkward silence in which the two seemed to stare at their feet.

To her surprise, however, Rachel immediately lit up. "Oh, an impromptu performance! That's why your playing was a bit odd – you missed a few notes during the chorus. Then again, I had no idea you played piano in the first place, Quinn! While Brad is wonderful, he isn't part of the Glee _club_ and having a student pianist might broaden our horizons and earn us a few points in specific, youthful pieces! Anyways, though, that's actually really unexpected. I wouldn't have pegged you as the type to let their emotions get the best of them in a burst of song. I must say now that it was a rather fantastic performance, given that you had no practice beforehand—"

"Right!" Quinn interrupted to cease the girl's incessant rambling, though she had to admit partly because Rachel's face was turning a delicate shade of red from the lack of oxygen. Thoroughly embarrassed by being walked in on but hiding it well, she paused a moment before speaking. "So… I have to get home." she told her awkwardly, not sure how to end their chat. "My mom will be worried. I'll... I'll see you in Glee, I guess…" Technically, Quinn had no desire whatsoever to return home, but in that moment, anywhere was better than there with Rachel.

"Oh… yeah. That makes sense." agreed the diva, not making eye contact. "Uhm, yeah. Right. Bye, Quinn." With that, she turned on her heel and walked a few feet down the aisle toward the door, her bag thumping against her skirt.

Quinn watched her for a moment, slightly perplexed that she'd just had a 'sort of' conversation with Rachel Berry, and she was about to turn to leave too when a thought struck her. "Rachel." she called before thinking. It came out in a voice so soft that she wasn't sure the other girl would hear.

As it was, she did, and the diva pivoted around so fast Quinn thought she might get whiplash. "Quinn?" she answered, now far enough away that she was bathed in shadow.

Squashing her yearning to gnaw at her bottom lip – that was a nervous gesture and Quinn was _never _nervous – the blond weighed the pros and cons of asking the question as opposed to just waving the girl off. On one hand, she _was _curious, and honestly, Rachel had just seen her sort of, kind of crying (despite her efforts to wipe her eyes and pretend that she hadn't). It wasn't like she could get anymore mortified than she already was. On the other hand, it might seem liked she cared. And she didn't.

In the end, the latter lost out. Mostly because she was sure the girl was staring at her expectantly, and the painful silence was just growing to be too much to handle. "I saw that freshman from earlier. The one Dave slushied. She was clean, though. You helped her, didn't you? That's why you were late?"

The chamber was unearthly hushed for a moment, and though Quinn could still see Rachel's silhouette – which let her know the girl hadn't left – she mentally cursed the auditorium for being too dark for her to gauge her expression. Then, she spoke.

"She was slushied, and I had an extra set of clothes from when I had been... I mean, I offered for her to audition for Glee club, but she told me she was too clumsy and tone deaf for show choir." There was a pause, and even without seeing her face, Quinn was sure Rachel was smiling. "People like us… We've got to stick together."

And on that note, the visible bit of silhouette suddenly disappeared, and Quinn knew she had left.

_People like us_, she thought to herself as she, too, finally departed the auditorium, though through a different exit backstage.

Part of her – granted, an invariably small part – pondered how far that 'us' extended.


End file.
